DREAM
by AlwaysextraordinaryMuse
Summary: Skye faced Ian Quinn on her own. Now she faces the darkest corner of her unconscious mind in the aftermath of her decision.
1. D R E A M

The room was cold and being in the hyperbaric chamber only made things worse.

No matter how cold the room felt, nothing could diminish the pain that hit her square in the stomach a few hours before.

The lock unlatched above her head, echoing against the glass arc above her, causing it to vibrate and disorient her. The platform she laid injured on suddenly began to roll. Her glossy eyes searched the room as she slid out of the hyperbaric chamber. Dizzily, she watched the glass slide out of her vision. Her eyes, struggling to find a steady spot, landed on a crack in the ceiling above her. The room smelled of molded walls and wet, dirty cement floors.

The spotlight above her, creating a blind spot in her vision, disabled another one of her senses. A tall man with dark hair limped around the chamber holding his side. His posture was weak. The man standing before her seemed just as disoriented as she felt. His shaky hand, not-too-gently, collided with her stomach. The contact sent shots of pain directly to her head. He steadied himself for a moment and stepped back to hold the edge of the table. He lifted his hand and placed it on her forehead, "Look at me. Hold on, just stay with me," he pleaded, breathlessly.

She searched for his eyes, for any hint of identification, but came up empty as a flurry of heat rolled in, washing over her body in a glorious light. The man's hand rested on her stomach, cupping and soothing her bullet-torn skin.

The cold breeze that chilled her to the bone was soon replaced with the comforting glow of heat beneath her body. The feeling of solid steel against her stiff back rapidly morphed into an excessively padded mattress covered by a sea of bed sheets. Her eyes peeled open as she slowly regained consciousness enough to examine the room that rendered her frozen. She turned back in confusion to the man lying shirtless beneath her arm and quickly stumbled away.

"What's wrong?" he said as he sleepily rubbed his left eye, attempting to focus on her.

"Who are you?" She backed up into the wall, "and where am I?"

The man quickly pulled the sheets away and made his way to her across the room. "It's okay; you're just having another one of your episodes."

"'Another one of my episodes'?" she mimicked in disgust. "Where am I? What did you do to my team?" Before she knew it, she was yelling, "Where are they?"

"Your team?" He questioned while bringing his right arm up to hold the back of his neck. "Just calm down," he reached for her but she rejected his gesture, "let me just get your mom. It's going to be okay."

"I said 'what did you do to them?'" She pulled back, "wait, my mom?"

But he was out the door before she could finish.

Within seconds her mind became flooded with questions and overthrown by panic. Moments later, a young woman walked in the room, her brown hair gently fell past her shoulders. She wore a white t-shirt with a pair of pink flannel shorts and a worried look.

"Sweetheart, what's the matter? Come here," she stammered as she stepped forward and stretched out her arms. "Susan, honey, what is it?" she inquired, watching her daughter intensively.

"Susan?" She stepped back and stumbled into the edge of a countertop. She winced in pain and held her side, "Who the hell is Susan?"

The woman's face quickly became flushed of all color as she stood frozen in horror.

"Sue, come on, don't do this. Not again." The man stepped in.

"I don't know who this Susan girl is that you keep talking about but it's not me. My name is Skye, you are not my mother, and I need to get out of here so just," Skye took two small steps toward them and a quick step to the right as she tried to make her way through the door.

"Susan, listen to me, this has happened before. We can help you." The woman's voice became edgy and desperate.

"I don't need your help. What I need is for you to just scoot on out of my way so I can find my team." Skye offered, "So if you'll excus-"

"I got her," the man interrupted as he lunged toward her and held her wrists.

"Let go of me!" She yelled.

Her twisting and kicking got her nowhere.

They sat around the dinner table. The woman sat at the head of the table and the man stood a few feet to her left.

"So you're telling me that I was in a coma for five years and I don't remember anything? That I miraculously recovered and woke up two months ago and ever since I've been losing my memory? That has to be one of the worst fake stories I've ever heard. And that says a lot coming from me," Skye objected. She pushed her chair back and stood, "I was not in a coma, okay? My name is not Susan or Sue, and I don't know either of you! I don't know what the hell is going on here but I will find out."

"It's not a fake story. It's the truth." The man walked around the table and sat on the chair beside her. He looked up at her and continued, "You were in a car accident. The other driver," he let his eyes stray for just a second, "he didn't make it. It wasn't your fault. There were a few witnesses and two of them were at the same angle as his truck driver and they were momentarily blinded by some sort of reflecting light. They said it all happened fast and the driver could never have seen you coming when he hit you."

"No," Skye turned her back to them, "no," she whispered to herself. "I was with Fitz. My entire team went missing on the train during a mission and we followed the target to this mansion in the middle of nowhere. I went in while he—Oh my God. I left him alone!" She violently pushed the strands of hair away from her face, "he has no combat training and I left him outside alone with a bunch of guards patrolling the area."

"Fitz? Your English teacher from high school?"

"What? No—"

"Look, Sue, this life that you're talking about, it's not yours. You don't go on missions. You spend most of your time on your computer or watching that show with that weird teenager who died and came back to life who has some kind of superpower that I don't understand. You live with your moms and your little brother, not on a plane with a group of people you barely know."

"No, I—" she froze. Vulnerability was one of her least favorite feelings. Skye looked around the room, desperately searching for something familiar. Something that would help clear her mind. She stared at the back of the chair and took a long breath. Confused, she sat back down, slumped in her chair. "I don't understand."

"I know, honey. The doctor told us that you would have difficulties grasping facts and remembering much of anything at all. And every time you relapsed into this world of fiction you've set up for yourself, we were able to bring you back to reality. Because we love you." The woman's voice was a soothing roar. Something about it was familiar while an even bigger part of it remained incomprehensible.

"Before," Skye began, turning her head to the man, "you said I lived with my moms?" she turned to face the woman, "as in plural?"

The man smiled, "Yes."

"So, if, let's say this were all true and I've really been in a coma for five years, where would my father be?"

"He left us. You were just a kid back then. I wouldn't expect you to remember the details, not with all you've been through." The woman said.

"What was his name?"

"Bruce. His name was Bruce and we loved each other very much when we had you and Jake. But things got too complicated for him. Feelings changed. My feelings changed and I couldn't hide them anymore. The truth is I started to feel things for someone else."

Skye sat in silence. She tried to grasp the information that came hurtling toward her face at full speed. "Jake." She mouthed.

"Yes. You two are so close. He looks up to you, Susan." The woman snapped her fingers and stood up with a jolt, "Maybe a family photo will help?"

The woman returned with an album of photos taken in different locations. Beaches in Thai Land, backpacking trips through the small cities of Italy and Spain. A young boy with light brown hair upon her shoulders while apple picking in Canada. Skye looked at the boy's face. His smile, wide and radiant, resembled hers in a way that no one's ever has. His eyes, a light green with a hint of hazel around the edges, looked full of life, ready to take on every challenge head on and turn every bad situation into a great experience. They looked complete. Behind him stood a woman with average length hair, a glorious brown with a glow of blond spread out evenly. Beside her stood the woman she had now come to acknowledge as her mother. They looked happy. In fact, it was the happiest she had ever looked.

"I'm sorry," she started, "I don't know your names."

The woman smiled reassuringly, "my name is Madeline Spencer, you usually call me mom. And this," she motioned to the man sitting across from her, "this is Adam, you guys have been together longer than I can remember. You grew up together and went to the same schools. And that," she pointed to the woman standing behind Jake, "is the love of my life, Kathy. Well, one of the loves of my life." She said with a smile.


	2. Healer

The days seemed to blur. Skye began writing in a notepad. She began with jotting down the little details that seemed irrelevant to her before and soon evolved to a full-on timetable/memory board. One night? No, two nights. Or was it three nights she had been there? Skye kept track of all the little things that still bothered her about the entire situation. Like how, in that one, or two, or three nights that she remembers being with Madeline who calls herself her mother and Adam, the man that she's supposedly been in love with all her life, she has not once met Jake, the brother she is supposedly inseparable from. Or how, no matter how deep she dug, she could not grasp any piece of information that she firmly, and wholeheartedly believed to be true.

Light streamed in through her bedroom window. The illuminated room glistened like a mountain of fresh, untouched snow. Skye turned her attention away from her notepad and watched the light create familiar patterns on the carpeted floor. Slowly, her eyes traced the path created by sunlight to the window above her nightstand. She pulled the curtain open, letting the light take over her. It felt like an instant exposure to heat, a familiar heat. The light gleamed in her eyes as she squinted toward the sun.

Skye stood like a deer caught in headlights staring out the window.

The light and heat washed over her. Something about the feeling made her feel safe. A passing car backfired, causing her to shudder and step back from the window. She brought her right hand to her stomach and held her breath. A sting coursed its way through her abdomen and before she knew it she was falling backward.

Her lifeless body hit the carpeted floor at full force.

She lay there motionless. Unconscious.

She sat up slowly and began to analyse the room. The walls reeked of infestation. Its cracked ceiling creaked under pressure of the stomping feet above. Drops echoed in the shallow room, a leak that created a puddle on the cement floor of the basement.

A figure, long and broad, lay on the floor just beside the hyperbaric chamber.

"Ward? Ward!" She rushed to his side and got to her knees. Her hands fumbled over his body, looking for a sign of injury. She slowly turned him over; there were no visible physical injuries.

"Grant," she shook him lightly until she felt a response, the flex of his abs beneath her palm. "Grant, look at me. Open your eyes. Come on."

His head turned, the slightest amount, to the side. She brought her right hand beneath his head and held it in her lap. Her left arm lay rested on his chest. Skye closed her eyes and leaned her forehead against his. A light-blue tinted glow appeared between her palm and across his chest. It grew in size until it covered his torso and faded through his body.

The two of them snuck out of the building. Tall buildings enclosed them in a maze of back alleys.

"So, why exactly are we in France?" Skye asked as she watched cars pass between buildings.

"After you got shot Simmons put you in the hyperbaric chamber to stabilize your temperature until we could get you to a hospital. Whoever's working with Ian Quinn sent a team to extract you."

"Extract me," Skye repeated breathlessly. "Why?"

"We don't know. All I know is that they wanted you." Ward stopped in his tracks. He turned to her, "hey," he reassured, "we're going to get to the bottom of this. I promise."

"Careful what you wish for." Skye warned.

They crept out of the alley and crossed an unfamiliar street in silence.

"Why France?" she muttered to herself.

"I'm a little bit more focused on the 'how's' and 'why's' of the fact that you no longer have two bullet wounds in your stomach." Ward suggested.

She looked at him "I had a dream," she paused, "a very long one actually," Skye looked down at her sore hands and rubbed her knuckles, "that you did it."

"Did what?"

"Healed me. Out of everything that happened today, that's the only thing that felt real."


End file.
